Shattered Heart
by SherlockedDancer
Summary: John watches Sherlock fall and doesn't know if his shattered heart will ever heal after he realizes he was in love with the detective.
1. Chapter 1

The silence was deafening and the time froze as I reached forward willing myself to grab his hand, to stop this nightmare. The reality stung as I realized I could only watch his body falling, he seemed to be falling in slow motion and I thought for a second that it was just my imagination. Maybe this was some terrible nightmare and I just needed to wake up. I was wrong though and I found myself running towards the body that now lay ever so dead on the ground. The blood covered his face and dampened his normally perfect hair. I heard someone crying and soon realized that it was me, the tears burned my face and blurred the horrible scene in front of me. I reached to him calling his name, he couldn't be dead, he just couldn't. I was pushed back though and was only allowed to stand there taking screaming out the name of the one man I loved. There I had admitted it, this man was everything to me. I could never tell him until that moment, I hadn't even fully realized it myself, but I knew now. I loved Sherlock Holmes. It was too late though and I would never be able to tell him. I sat on the pavement where his blood had spilled and cried. I lost track of time and before I knew it the moon had come out and there was no one around. I couldn't will myself to move, I just wanted to stay right there where the man I loved had died.

I awoke to the light tap of a hand on my shoulder and when I looked up I saw Lestrade standing above me.

"You alright?" He asked, although he obviously already knew the answer.

"Yeah, fine" Was all I was able to manage. He reached out for my hand and helped me up off the pavement. I stopped for a second, staring at the ground feeling the tears fill my eyes once again.

"He once told me I was his friend, his only friend", I nearly whispered. Lestrade didn't say anything, he just gave me a knowing nod and started to walk away. I followed him and somehow we were suddenly back in 221B. I didn't remember the cab ride or how we got to the flat but I somehow ended up in the shower. I couldn't will myself to function, every small thing was a challenge. I was able to dress and when I came back out of the bathroom I found a cup of tea and note laying in the counter.

_John,_

_Sorry for the loss, I know Sherlock meant the world to you. I talked to Mycroft and the funeral is planned for tomorrow. We both think it would be a good idea if you went and maybe talked about Sherlock a bit. I understand if you don't want to, but just thought I'd ask. Once again I'm so sorry for the loss._

_Lestrade_

I stared at the note and had to reread it at least 5 times to comprehend what it said. It didn't feel real, it felt like I was in a fog. I sighed and set the note down before going and sitting in my arm chair. I sipped my tea and starred at the couch. I could almost see him lying there, his hands steeped beneath his chin as he drifted off to his mind palace, mumbling something about a murderer. I forced my eyes to move away from the couch and I found them looking at the wall. The gunshots were still there and the longer I stared at them, the more I was sure that I could almost hear him yelling.

"Bored John, I'm Bored!"

I smiled to myself, before a loud crash broke me from my daydream and reality came rushing in. I looked down and realized I had dropped my tea and the glass was shattered across the floor. I stared at the glass and decided that it may as well have been my heart. I stood and was about to clean up the mess when I thought better and walked to my bedroom

When I awoke I wasn't in my bedroom anymore, I was in Sherlock's. I had no idea how I had gotten there but as I readjusted myself I realized the pillow was damp with my tears and my eyes felt raw from crying. I pulled the covers up tighter around me and felt Sherlock's scent fill my senses. I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep whispering to a long lost Sherlock.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is the 2nd chapter it's a bit longer than the first one. I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters. You'll probably recognize the scene at Sherlock's grave, I also do not own that dialog. Hope you like it, let me know what you think :)**

**-B**

I awoke to the sound of rain and wind beating hard against my window and crawled deeper under the covers. I covered my face and felt the dark sheets drown out the light of the room. Maybe I could just stay under these covers forever, maybe everyone would forget I was even here. I sat there awhile feeling pretty convinced that I could stay under there forever when I heard a knock on the door. I sat there and debated whether or not to answer it before giving up and dragging myself out of bed. I opened the door giving the visitor my grumpiest face as I stood there wrapped only in Sherlock's sheets. It was Mycroft and he returned my look of dissatisfaction in his own smug way.

"What?" I blurted a little bit too angry, although he was most likely there to ask me about Sherlock's funeral.

"I'm assuming Lestrade has already told you, but Sherlock's funeral is today and we would like you to come and maybe speak about him. That is if you would like to… No pressure" His voice was cold and straight to the point.

I stared blankly at him before turning around and walking away, leaving him standing in the doorway. I shuffled in my blanket to the kitchen where I turned on the kettle. When I turned back around Mycroft had moved from the doorway and was now sitting on the couch, the couch where my beloved Sherlock once laid. I consider for a second to tell him to move, but thought better and silently shuffled to the bathroom. I showered and dressed and when I opened the door I noticed Mycroft was still there. I gave him a questioning look and he just stared back coldly. I assumed this was his way of saying that I was going to go to the funeral, even if he had to drag me there. I pulled on my coat and walked to the door, still refusing to speak. Mycroft followed silently and we both left the flat. As I opened the door out to the busy London streets, I noticed a black car already waiting for Mycroft and I. "Of course", I mumbled to myself as I opened the door and slid inside.

The car ride was mostly silent and I felt a sort of anger towards Mycroft. I knew he had helped Moriarty and I wasn't sure if I should lash out or give him the silent treatment. For now I decided on the silent treatment and the ride to the cemetery soon became awkward.

We finally arrived and I noticed Mycroft jump out of the car a bit too excitedly. I myself was happy to be out of the car, but then I remembered why I was there. I stopped dead in my tracks, not sure if I wanted to do this anymore. My mind told me to turn around and run the other direction but my legs began walking forwards again. I noticed a group of people in the middle of the cemetery, Molly, Lestrade, , and even Anderson and Sally had shown up. They all looked up at me as I walked over and I went and found a spot to stand next to Lestrade. It was silent for a minute before I realized that everyone was looking at me expectantly. I froze. They were expecting me to say something but I didn't know if I could do it. What if the words didn't come out right? What if I started crying? Screw it… I thought and my mouth opened.

"Hi, ummm thanks for coming, I'm sure Sherlock would have appreciated it", I stopped for a moment before saying "actually he probably wouldn't have cared who showed up." That got a few smiles out of everyone and I took the time to try and compose myself.  
"He told me once that I was his friend, his only friend. It was the best day of my life when he told me this and I was never really sure what I thought about it. I guess you never really know what you have till it's gone and that is exactly the case with Sherlock. Everyone finds him annoying and a bit of a smart arse, but I got to know the real him. Underneath the stone cold, deducing detective, there was a heart, and somehow only I had eyes for it. The day he died I realized I was in love with this man, and sadly didn't realize it until he was gone. I realized in that short time that the world needed Sherlock. His brilliance, his critiques, his deductions, his stark remarks, and his heart. Things fall apart without him. Crimes will be left unsolved, people who need help won't know where to turn to, and a heart that needs to be loved will be left shattered without him. It's hard to make people see what I see in the man but I wish that people could have seen him for the good man he was on the inside, underneath that trench coat and that big head of his." I stopped for a moment and felt the tears fill my eyes as I looked down at the cold dark headstone, almost too ironic for the situation. I went from speaking to everyone around me to speaking to him. "I love you" I spoke softly to the grave, and the tears began streaming down my face.

I felt Lestrade's hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see everyone in tears as well, even Anderson and Sally had watery eyes. A few other people said some words but I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even here them. Before I knew it everybody was leaving and Lestrade, Mycroft, and I were the only ones left.

"We better be off" Mycroft sighed to Lestrade.

"What about you John? Do you need a ride home?" Lestrade asked me in a shaky voice.

"No, actually I would like some time alone with Sherlock if you wouldn't mind." I answered as best as I could in my slowly fading voice.

Lestrade only nodded is understand and turned to leave with Mycroft. I stood there silently in the rain, waiting till they had gotten in the car and driven away. I didn't want anyone around to witness how sad I was about to look. I tried to hold myself together but failed miserably and burst into tears. I slowly sank down to my knees and ignored the mud and water that seeped through my pants. I looked at the gravestone in front of me and began to speak.

"You told me once that you weren't a hero… um… there were times I didn't even think you were human, but, let me tell you this: you were the best man and human… human being I've ever known, and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, that's… uh. There. I was so alone, and I owe you so much." I paused for a second trying to compose myself before reaching forward putting my hand on the grave.

"Look, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't. Be. Dead. Would you do that, just for me, just… stop it. Stop this! "I burst into tears harder than before and rested my head against the cold stone in front of me.

I laid there for what felt like an eternity and soon felt myself completely soaked by the rain and shivering. I could tell I was getting sick and I felt dizzy as a fever began to take over my body. I was beginning to lose my vision when I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. When I looked behind me I saw an all too familiar figure standing behind me. As I went to reach for the figure I found my world suddenly go black and a baritone voice whispering my name.

"John, it's me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this chapter is so short, hopefully the next one will be longer. -B**

Everything was white and bright and my eyes burned as they slowly opened. Where was I?

"John? John are you awake?" Who was that? I recognized the voice but I couldn't place who or where it was coming from. I looked around the room and I slowly was able to make out where I was. A hospital… of course, I should have known by the strong scent of antiseptic. I continued looking around and suddenly my heart stopped. It couldn't be, could it? On the side of my bed sat a detective, long, lean, pale, and the sharpest cheekbones in the world. I reached out my hand terrified that this was just an illusion.

"Sherlock?" I watched as a grin spread wide across his face and he let out a sigh of relief.

"John, John it's me" He continued to smile at me and I felt pure joy rush through my body and then I felt myself fill with sudden anger. Without any warning I swung my fist punching Sherlock straight in the jaw, his face contorting into a look of utter surprise and then pain.

"What was that for?" He whined and cradled the side of his face.

"For convincing me you were dead, for leaving me all alone, and for lying to me. Actually the list could go on forever." I gave him the meanest look I could conjure up in the state I was in. It was pretty hard though, considering I was lying in a bed wearing a hospital gown that barely covered anything.

"I'm sorry. It was for the best John, it was for you." I was struck with confusion because for once, the detective was completely sincere in his words. His eyes held so much truth and guilt and apology and I knew that it wasn't he meant it. We continued to sit there in silence for a while, I wasn't quite sure what to say, it was a pretty weird situation. Suddenly Sherlock spoke up his voice cautious and soothing.

"I heard you, you know." I just stared back, confused as to what he was talking about. I raised an eyebrow silently asking him to explain further.

"At the cemetery, I heard what you said about me." I thought for a moment and then froze in shock.

"Everything?" I whispered, unsure what to think of this.

"Everything", he reassured me. I just sat there, confused as what to do, waiting to see if he would say more.

"I did mean it. You are my only friend, my best friend actually." I cringed a bit because I had sat there and drained my heart out, confessed my love, and all he had to say was that he was my "best friend". The statement sounded childish compared to the feelings I had for him. I didn't speak though, I just nodded my head in response.

"You're disappointed", he stated very clearly and bit confused. Of course I was disappointed, how could I not be?

"It's just that, I… you… never mind" I just mumbled things out, not really sure what I was trying to say. Sherlock just stared down at me and then suddenly he reached his hand forward. I felt the surprisingly warm hand stroke my face, and the action was…. Comforting. Comfort and Sherlock? This was new. I didn't move, I enjoyed every second of the relaxing motion. What was Sherlock trying to do? I stared at Sherlock for a while before finally closing my eyes, feeling suddenly very sleepy. I tried to stay awake but failed greatly and soon I was lost in my dreams, which were much happier than they had been the past few nights.

I looked down at John continuing to stroke his face until he finally slipped into sleep. I smiled slightly, looking down at the exhausted man lying before me. I stopped stroking his face and leaned down and kissed his forehead lightly.

"You have no idea John, no idea…"


	4. Chapter 4

The next few weeks went by in a daze. I had finally been released from the hospital when my fever had gone and I felt much better. Sherlock went back and started helping Scotland Yard, surprising everyone of course and refusing to tell them how he had survived. I continued to follow him around on cases like always, chasing after criminals together. We never really talked much about the things I had said to him and I had learned to live with the fact that he didn't like me the same way that I liked him.

* * *

"John do hurry" I watched as Sherlock sprinted around another corner ahead of me and I struggled to keep up.

"Don't wait for me" I barely gasped as I sprinted around the corner. I watched as he suddenly stopped reaching back and grabbing my hand.

"Sherlock… Wha?" I barely got the words out as he once again began sprinting down the street dragging me behind him.

"There he is!" Sherlock turned one last corner and I realized we had reached a dead end. At the end of the alley was the man we had been chasing, looking around frantically trying to find a way out.

"Don't move" I heard Sherlock caution the man as he reached one hand forward, gesturing the man to stay where he was. The whole time he continued to hold my hand, I looked at him questioningly before starting to pull away. His grip on me only tightened as I tried to break free. Why wouldn't he let go?

"John, get my phone and call Lestrade. Let him know we found the man."

"Where is it?"

"My back right pocket." I stood there not sure what to do. I was on his left side and getting his phone would mean that I would have to reach across him and then underneath his coat and into his pants in order to reach his phone, this wasn't going to work well. I contemplated whether or not to get it before finally sighing and moving to grab the phone. I began to reach for the phone but was caught by surprise when I couldn't move very far because of the detective's death grip that remained around my wrist. Well this was going to be hard, I thought to myself. I ended up basically bear hugging Sherlock, one hand reaching into his rear pant pocket.

"Now people will definitely talk" I mumbled into Sherlock's coat.

"Well that was unexpected…" I froze as I heard Lestrade's voice coming from behind Sherlock. Well this was definitely going to look bad. I quickly pulled my hand out of Sherlock's pants and went to move away from the detective.

"We weren't… I wasn't…." I suddenly felt Sherlock's arm wrap around my back and pull me closer.

"What John is trying to say is that I was so happy that he trapped the criminal that I decided to hug him." Sherlock announced this to the DI in the most serious way that I was suddenly deeply confused.

"Oh and I'm sure that John's hand just happened to fall into your pants." Lestrade laughed and shook his head, gesturing the police to take custody of the criminal standing greatly confused in the corner.

Once the man was in custody and Sherlock explained everything that had happened to Lestrade, we left walking together once again finding our way to the main road.

"What was that about?" I looked up at Sherlock, knowing that he would understand what I meant.

"Just doing you a favor John."

"A favor? You call telling Lestrade that we were hugging and I was getting in your pants for no apparent reason a favor?" Sherlock laughed in his deep baritone voice before responding to my outburst.

"Oh I know you enjoyed it John."

"What? I…. I did not."

"Yes you did, you're just too afraid to admit it."


End file.
